Your Honor
by LindseyBee
Summary: Emily Daggett is a spoiled little brat, to put it kindly. After being raised by one of the wealthiest and most manipulative men in all of Gotham, she's grown accustomed to her luxurious lifestyle. She never expected to get caught up in the utter chaos Bane inspires, nor did she ever expect what horrors she would face after ending up in the hands of the honorable Judge Crane.
1. Chapter 1

Emily Daggett is a spoiled little brat, to put it kindly. After being raised by one of the wealthiest and most manipulative men in all of Gotham, she's grown accustomed to her luxurious lifestyle. She never expected to get caught up in the utter chaos Bane inspires after his "revolution" breaks through, nor did she ever expect what horrors she would face after ending up in the hands of the _honorable_ Judge Crane.

I do not own _Batman _or any relating characters.

This story is primarily set during Bane's reign over Gotham. But chapters will be mainly focused on Crane, of course, because I do adore him.

XXX

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she clutched the steering wheel, accelerating forward at a frightening rate. No matter that she didn't have a license, nor a permit - there were no laws or guidelines to follow in Gotham now, anyway. Not since Bane… Or Crane.

She shivered and pressed her foot against the gas pedal.

_I need to get out, I need to get out of here. I can go anywhere I please, anywhere but this city…_

A fleeting thought suddenly crossed her mind, though it hit her as though she'd just slammed into a brick wall. What about the bomb, the nuclear weapon that Bane had threatened the entire city with? She'd been so occupied with avoiding her fate, avoiding Crane, avoiding the mess of insanity she felt creeping up on her more and more each day, she'd completely disregarded the fucking _bomb…_

Hot tears bit at her eyes, as much as she fought to hold them back, they rushed down her cheeks at an alarming rate - furious enough to block her vision of the road for a mere few seconds, even. And by the time she had collected herself enough to brush the tears away from her face, she realized she was on a head-way collision with a pole.

A scream burst through her throat as she slammed on the break in a desperate attempt to stop the oncoming accident, but to little avail. She turned the steering wheel recklessly, rumbling over a rather tall curb at the edge of the street, and what with her tires shrieking against the pavement…

Before she knew it, the car was completely upside down, and there were black circles swimming in her vision. She coughed as the engine smoked and glass from both the windows and the windshield rained down on her, layering her entire body in cuts and scrapes. Every fiber in her body screamed at her to run, to make a break for it, to escape, but she could not move. The dashboard of the car had completely collapsed in on her legs, making any form of escape futile. There was little she could do when the car that had been pursuing her pulled up to the accident, and out strolled a mercenary - one of Bane's rugged, ruthless men - and peered into the upside down window where she resided.

"Emily Daggett," said the man calmly, a hint of amusement in his expression that he did not even bother to suppress, "I believe that you're late for your court date."

XXX

SIX MONTHS PREVIOUSLY

"Angela! AN-GEL-AAAAAA!" shrieked Emily across the hallway. A small, thin woman with what would be rather beautiful features, did she not look so exhausted and worn-out, came rushing out of the bathroom almost immediately. She came to a very cross-looking Emily's side, panting slightly.

"My apologies, Miss Daggett, I was scrubbing the bathtub and-" she began in a hurry.

Emily simply held her hand up, silencing her, and tapped her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor. "My dad left you with only one job this weekend - to cater to _me_. And you expect me to accept your pitiful excuses about "cleaning the bathroom", or whatever you fucking said, when you're not even doing the _one job _that _my father _left for you?"

Angela glanced down at the floor pitifully, not daring to meet Emily's scornful gaze. She was a spoiled little _bitch_, that much was certain, but it was also true that her father, John Daggett - one of Gotham's wealthiest men, mind you - also paid quite well for a less-than-well-educated maid with several children to support. "I'm so sorry, Miss Daggett," she said finally, very softly.

"Unless you want to go back supporting your ten fucking kids through prostitution, or on the fucking Mexican farm or _whatever _it is you did before this, I _suggest _that you make me my lunch. Now," said Emily acidly. She shoved Angela in the direction of the kitchen, then pointed down the hall. "You've been here long enough to know what I like to eat."

Angela retreated down the hall like a scorn little puppy dog, and Emily watched her as she went, her lips curled into a smirk. There were certain benefits of being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Gotham - certain powers, luxurious, and privileges that the "average" Gotham citizen were not allowed. One of the simplest of these being the ability to boss the fucking underpaid maid around who was smart enough to know that any type of remark she made back would eventually make its way back to Daggett, who would replace her without a second thought and risk losing no sleep over the decision as she rotted on the streets with her children.

It was the type of power that the usual Gotham citizen did not possess, and Emily absolutely _relished _it.

After Angela had disappeared entirely into the kitchen, and Emily could hear the racket of pots and pans rattling as she hurried to cook something up, she went into her room and flopped onto her bed. Her bedroom was large, but it was really nothing special - it had all the usual 18-year-old-girl additions to it, but nothing really _stuck out _entirely. Emily's tendency toward being creative had never really developed, or was very bland, to say the least, due to the fact that she had never felt the need to _be _creative or to _stick out _in any way at all. When everything was handed to you on a silver platter and _everyone_ knew your name by association, of course, _everyone _noticed you. You were already born an individual, so there was no need to become one.

"M-miss Daggett," came Angela's stammering voice from the doorway. Emily did not even bother to glance up, but instead answered in a harsh tone of voice,

"_What, _Angela?"

"Miss Tori has arrived. She said that you're expecting her?"

Emily finally looked at the doorway, her expression considerably brighter than it had been only moments ago. "Well, what're you waiting for? Let her in!" _Finally_, after lazing around this godforsaken house the entire day, there was something to do. Tori had been Emily's friend since the day they'd been born (they shared a birthday, and her father had been present in both waiting rooms at some point) and she was always delighted to see her. In a way, Tori was very opposite of Emily, what with her generally kind and expressive nature… while Emily herself had a tendency to be rather, erm, _harsh _and demanding... Either way though, they had managed to remain friends throughout the previous eighteen years, despite the occasional argument between them. It was almost as if they complimented each other.

"Em!" said Tori loudly, spreading out on the bed sheet beside her friend. "You've gotta put on the news, _now_. Didja hear what happened last night? With the Batman?"

_The Batman_, of course she'd heard. Her father hadn't stop going on about it the entire night.

"Yeah, I did," said Emily flatly, not bothering to turn on the television. She'd been raised her entire life to distrust and ridicule the Batman, so his return did not exactly excite her in the same way that it seemed to excite Tori. If anything, she was displeased with his reappearance. "Eight fucking years, and the freak chooses to come back. I had enough of him when I was ten, and all the kids in our fucking class were drawing bat symbols in bathroom stalls and on their homework. Does his sideshow never end?" she complained.

Tori looked at her friend in confusion, a frown curling along her face. "I thought you'd be happy, y'know? Especially since that whole stock market incident yesterday." She pursed her lips into a judgmental sort of pout. "Your _dads _money does rely on the stock market, as well."

Emily barked a laugh. As much as she wished she could inform her best friend about her fathers conversing with the masked man that committed the crime, she'd _sworn _that she wouldn't. All of this had to be kept under wraps, he'd told her, if she wanted him to successfully take control of Wayne Enterprises. Which, of course, she certainly did.

"Don't look at me like that," said Emily distastefully. "It's not like he actually _stopped _the robbery," she snorted.

"He _did _stop the Joker, if you don't recall," Tori reminded her.

Emily winced unintentionally, causing Tori to raise her eyebrows slowly in triumph - knowing that she'd reminded her friend of one of Batman's certainly victorious and helpful aids to the city.

After all, Emily had been on the civilian ferry that the Joker had rigged to explode, oh-so-many years ago.

"All right," said Emily with a huff, "I'll give him that, but overall, he's a B-Rated… hero." She said the word "hero" as though it had left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, then continued with a shrug of her shoulders, "But even so, even if he is back for good, someone's going to take care of him eventually. Whether it be the police or whoever it was that organized the stock market incident." There was a pregnant pause. "His time was up eight years ago."

XXX

I know it's just started, but remember to review. :3


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Emily Daggett is a spoiled little brat, to put it kindly. After being raised by one of the wealthiest and most manipulative men in all of Gotham, she's grown accustomed to her luxurious lifestyle. She never expected to get caught up in the utter chaos Bane inspires, nor did she ever expect what horrors she would face after ending up in the hands of the _honorable _Judge Crane.

XXX

"ANGELA!" screeched Emily. "TORI WANTS SOME FOOD, _NOW_!"

Tori, who was watching Emily in horror at the treatment of her maid, hurried down the hall into the kitchen to greet Angela herself. She truly loved her best friend, but honestly, her constant mistreatment of others (especially those in a lower social class than herself) was absolutely appalling.

"Um, Angela," panted Tori upon reaching the kitchen. "If you're not busy, I was wondering if you could make me some- oh, Angela, are you _crying_?" She walked hesitantly toward the young woman, who was sitting in a chair against the kitchen counter, hot tears silently pouring down her cheeks. She made no attempt to even conceal them.

"I-it's my mother," sniffled Angela. It was easy to assume that Tori genuinely wanted to know what was wrong, because it was in her nature. She was an honest-to-god caring young lady, and on nearly every occasion, Angela was ecstatic when she came over - as it made Emily _and _her father easier to tolerate. "Sh-she was struggling with cancer last year, but fortunately it went into remission. Until…" Her voice trailed off and was replaced by a choked sob. She buried her face in her hands and continued to cry.

"It's back, isn't it?" said Tori sympathetically.

Angela nodded shakily, reaching to wipe her runny nose with the back of her hand.

"Oh, Angela," said Tori sadly. "Here, let me get you a tissue-"

"Angela, what the _hell _are you doing?" said a furious voice from the doorway of the kitchen. Angela's head snapped up at the sound, and she immediately stood up out of her chair, straightened her apron, and smeared the messy mascara off her cheeks with her palm. "What the fuck are you crying for? Can't you cry on your _own _time? Not when our guest wants to eat," she snarled.

"I'm s-so sorry, Miss Daggett, I'll get right to work-"

"You _do _know that my father is going to hear about this, don't you?" said Emily warningly, a tantalizing sort of smirk spread across her lips.

Angela emitted a quiet sob, fresh tears glistening on her cheeks. "B-but all I _have _is this job, Miss Daggett. And with my mothers medical-"

"Take it up with my father-"

"EMILY, WHAT THE _HELL _ARE YOU DOING?" roared Tori. Emily glanced up at her friend, whose entire face was savagely red - presumably from anger - and cocked an eyebrow at her reaction. Although she was used to Tori being the kinder side of their entire friendship, it was very rare to see her express anger of any kind, especially to such a severe extent.

"What, Tori?" she huffed.

Tori went over to Angela and gently handed her a tissue before responding with a fierce, "You _know _that my own mother died of breast cancer, and you're going to threaten Angela's financial stability because _she's _crying about her _own _mother on the job?"

"This isn't a psychiatrists' office, she's not here to express her emotions."

"Well, _clearly _it isn't," spat Tori, "because if you had even a single shred of empathy-"

"What the _hell _is going on here?" said a masculine voice from the doorway. Emily spun on her heel to face the source, and a huge smile broke out across her face.

"Dad!" she ran over to embrace her father, who was looking quite irritable and returned the hug with hesitance. "Angela's just going on about something for a change," she said with an amount irritability to match her fathers expression.

"Angela," said Daggett sternly, glancing in her direction. She winced when his gaze washed over her, "Go home for the evening, we'll discuss this tomorrow morning. And _you_," he pointed his finger at Tori, "you leave as well."

Emily's smile immediately broke. "But, _dad_," she whined, "it's so _boring _around here."

"I don't want to hear this right now, Emily. I have some important business to take care of."

Emily quit her complaining instantly. Recently, whenever her father suggested that he had "important business" to attend to, it was almost always something involving the masked man. And that was certainly the sort of business she did not want to be the person to interfere with.

"All right," she mumbled miserably. "Tori, go home."

"Gladly," huffed Tori. She took Angela carefully by the arm, and once they had both been dismissed from the premises, Emily turned to her father in excitement and said,

"This is about the masked man, isn't it? What do they call him again?"

"Bane," replied Daggett flatly. "I need you to go wait in your room until I've taken care of him."

Emily groaned internally. This was a typical occurrence; she was never allowed any physical interaction with Bane, despite how much she had pleaded over the last several months. It was quite exasperating for her, as she figured that if Bane was aiding her father in taking control of Wayne Enterprises, it also directly affected _her_. And there was also the point about her being eighteen now, a legal _adult _who could fend for herself. But Daggett was always able to rebuff said point, easily pointing out that despite her ability to now "fend for herself", she was still living in _his _house and thriving off _his _finances. It was an argument that Emily was never able to win, so she no longer bothered to fight back. "All right, tell me what happens when you're done," she said miserably, slumping off to her room.

XXX

Every minute that passed seemed like decades to Emily as she lazed about in her room, doing whatever she could to ease her curiosity about her fathers current situation with the masked man - er, _Bane_. She was growing increasingly tired of being left out of the loop, _especially _since she had turned eighteen a short three months ago. She felt as though her father would not ever quit treating her like a naïve little child, which exasperated her to an unimaginable point. She was a fucking adult, for Christ's sake. She could handle whatever it was that was currently going on in the main room of the house, whatever it is they were discussing - she wanted _in_.

So, she was going to take matters into her own hands.

Emily slipped quietly out of her bedroom and began her journey down the hall, treading softly so as not to allow the floorboards to creak (not that they often did, considering they were relatively new) and made her way to the main room. Upon her entry, she could immediately hear her fathers voice criticizing another man, whose own voice was somewhat robotic, muffled, and intimating all in one. The voice frightened her some, due to the fact that she had never herself come in contact with Bane. She had expected him to be at least somewhat muscled and large, but when she peered over the corner and was finally given a full-view of him, she was outright frightened by his appearance; as well as felt that his voice fitted him quite appropriately.

"Your hit on the stock market _didn't work_, my friend," she heard her father snap furiously. She gazed around the corner at certain intervals, being careful not to be seen by either her father _or _Bane. It was somewhat hard to hear them, especially Bane, but she strained herself to take in every bit of the conversation that she could.

She had already missed some of it, which aggravated her, but she could now see that her fathers associate had exited the room, and Bane had his hand rested on his shoulder - almost gently - but in such a way that Emily was very grateful that she was not the one in her fathers situation right now. She could briefly make out Bane saying, "Do you feel _in charge_?"

The conversation continued with her father mentioning something about a small fortune, and Bane something about power, and quite honestly, their exchange was beginning to bore Emily until…

"You're _pure evil_."

She heard that quite clearly. She had never seen her father so terrified in his entire life. Her breath instantly hitched in her lungs as Bane took her fathers neck in his hands, and everything inside of her head screamed at her to do something, to call the police or scream or _something_, but for some reason she could not move at all. It was as though she was paralyzed, pasted to the floor underneath her.

"I'm _necessary _evil."

She held her breath as her fathers muffled screams echoed throughout the corridor.

XXX

"HELP, SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME!" roared Emily. The moment she had been sure that Bane was gone and her father was certainly dead (and have been removed by Bane), she had bolted out of her home and sprinted down the street, tears streaming down her face, grabbing onto random strangers shirts' and _pleading _for their assistance. Most of them had rebuffed her, pushed her aside as though she were completely insane, while others look at her with deep concern, but despite that, did little to help.

"SOMEONE. PLEASE. HELP," she screamed. Several blocks away from her home, and made a turn and collapsed into the nearest alleyway, sitting beside a garbage can with her face buried deep in her shirt. She sobbed so loudly that passersby gave her quizzical looks, as though to say _what the hell is wrong with that girl? _Still, no one stopped to aid her, which simply increased her feelings of utter terror and helplessness. She wasn't accustomed to such emotions, seeing as her father had protected her for her entire life and she had never _had _anything to feel so afraid or helpless over. They had always been financially stable, and she had never been in any danger, always cooped up in her fathers mansion with absolutely nothing to harm her…

The only time she could remember feeling such fear and helplessness to this degree was when she was ten years old and on that ferry, that ferry that the Joker had sworn to demolish did they not choose to blow up the other boat first. At such a young age, she had been positive that this was it, that she was going to die and she would never be able to kiss a boy for the first time or start high school or say goodbye to her father or…

"Miss, miss! Are you all right?" said an unfamiliar voice from above her. Emily removed her tear-streaked face from her shirt and looked up shakily; a police man stood over her, worry lines etched into his forehead as he gazed down at her with unease. His badge read "Officer Blake."

"Officer," Emily sputtered desperately, "my father… John Daggett… _dead_." A tiny sob escaped her throat, and she continued to shake uncontrollably as Officer Blake helped her up from her fetal position.

"You're Emily Daggett," said Blake, suddenly recognizing her. Emily was unsurprised by this; it wouldn't be the first time that someone had recognized her appearance by association through her father.

"Y-yes," sniffed Emily. "He's dead. My father's dad." She tried to remain calm so she could explain, but with her emotions overwhelming her the way they currently were, it was exceedingly difficult.

"Do you know what happened?" inquired Blake calmly.

"Masked man… B-Bane," she whimpered. Blake's eyebrows suddenly perked, a look of curiosity replacing his concerned expression. "He… he cracked his neck. Threw away the body. I don't know exactly-" A wave of something she could only recognize as dread suddenly washed over her, sending her into another wild frenzy of sobs. "I'm so, so sorry." Emily found it odd that she was apologizing to this man, who was clearly in a social class far below hers. Police officers were paid terribly, and although many of them did very little or abused what small amount of power that they possessed, she was currently _begging _this man - a man she would typically turn her nose up at - for assistance. It was unbelievable what someone would stoop to just to obtain assistance from another person, no matter how much said assistance was genuinely needed.

"Miss Daggett, try to calm down," said Blake soothingly, "I'm going to call in some other officers, okay? They'll take you down to the station… get you something to eat if you'd like… so you can calm down, does that sound all right?"

Emily nodded her head in a frenzy, and Blake took her by the arm gently.

"It's all going to be okay, I promise."

XXX

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :3


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Emily Daggett is a spoiled little brat, to put it kindly. After being raised by one of the wealthiest and most manipulative men in all of Gotham, she's grown accustomed to her luxurious lifestyle. She never expected to get caught up in the utter chaos Bane inspires, nor did she ever expect what horrors she would face after ending up in the hands of the _honorable_ Judge Crane.

TW: Mentions of drug and alcohol use.

XXX

Emily did not like police stations. She didn't even like police, for god's sake, why would she want to be put in the middle of a place where they attended to all their business? Immediately upon her arrival to the station, she had about a million questions thrown at her, and she felt as though _she _had committed the crime and _she _was being interrogated; which, of course, she didn't like one bit, and caused a defensive sort of aura to come over her.

"No, I _don't _know where Bane went. And no, I DON'T know where he put the body!" she said irritability, raising her voice considerably. "Officer Blake didn't tell me I was coming here to be worked up by a bunch of fucking second-rate _officers_. I'm the victim here! I _witnessed _the murder!" She glared viciously at the officer questioning her before snapping, "Bring me some food, I want some food."

The officer - whose badge read the name Wilson - did as much as he could to smother the aggravation and sarcasm developing toward Emily and replied, with as much calmness as he could muster, "All right, Miss Daggett. What would you like to eat?"

"Soup," she answered instantly. Admittedly, she probably should have had something a bit more filling, but she didn't know if she could stomach it.

The officer left the room quickly, but was sure to spare a hateful glance at Emily before he was gone. She simply snorted and disregarded the look, whipped out her cell phone, and sent a quick text message to someone she hadn't contacted in quite some time.

**Jared, I need whatever you've got. Do you have any green, or pills, or something? **

She chuckled to herself when she realized that she was pursuing drugs in a place like this - a police station, for Christ's sake. But she needed something to take the edge off of these intense emotions. That was also what she'd turned to when she couldn't handle things, ever since she'd turned thirteen-years-old and was introduced to cigarettes. Cigarettes she was hardly fond of, but weed she had grown accustomed to; but only if she truly needed it.

Or maybe she could make due with some alcohol, that was always an option…

Her phone buzzed a moment later in her pocket, and she fished it out and opened the text message immediately.

**Yeah girl, I got you. How much you need? And I've got anxiety pills and painkillers…**

The list droned on to name the number of drugs that her dealer possessed, but before Emily could completely read it, there was the erratic sound of what was clearly gunfire outside the room she was currently in. Hearing this and the screams of demands and arguments also leaking from the room, she immediately ducked behind the nearest filing cabinet and shoved her hand against her mouth, biting the skin to prevent her from making any audible noise. Moments later, several men she recognized as mercenaries (she'd come in contact with them once or twice before, through her father) burst into the room, clutching Officer Wilson by his neck with a gun pressed against his temple and shouting at him, "Where is she? _Where's the girl?_"

Wilson looked up in a frenzy, gazing about the room in a desperate for search for "the girl" - who Emily assumed was herself - before exclaiming, "She was in here, I swear! I left to get her food and - and-"

"Well where is she _now_?" hissed a rugged mercenary, pressing the tip of the gun so hard against his temple that he emitted a pained whimper.

"I don't know, I swear!" Tears were pouring down his face, but all Emily could think in her head was _that fucking coward_, due to him selling her out.

But then again, she hadn't treated him very nicely. But what sort of excuse was that?

"Search the room!" Wilson shouted. "She couldn't have gone far, just please, please don't shoot-"

Emily looked away as the mercenary pulled the trigger, sending the sound of a gunshot echoing across the room and forever silencing the fucking coward. She would've smiled had she not been so anxiety-ridden about being found.

In only took a moments worth of searching for the mercenary to find her, and she was torn up from the floor by her hair and pressed against the wall, the tip of the gun now pointing in _her _direction. She felt an uneasy pang of fear rattle her insides.

"You have to have the wrong person -" she began in a panic.

"Emily Daggett," said the mercenary, with a smirk that was able to unease her, "you have a court date for your crimes against the People of Gotham."

"Crimes? On what charges? What did I-"

Before she could finish, she was hit over the head with the butt of the gun, and a familiar series of black circles appeared in her vision before unconsciousness fully engulfed her.

XXX

"Did you hear? About the football game?"

"Bane fucked that place up, that's for sure. You heard about the mayor, getting blown sky high?"

"You think he really gave that trigger to a citizen?"

"Dunno, but you heard about Crane lately? He's lookin' for guinea pigs to test his toxin on… tweaked it up a bit, I guess. Sure hate to be whoever he picks."

Emily paid close attention to the mutterings of the mercenaries guarding the crowd. Ahead of her was a man… a man of vague familiarity, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it… handing out citizens fates' as though it were the simplest thing anyone could do. She stood at the rear of the crowd, wrists bound (as she had tried to kick and scream her way out of things after she'd come out of her unconsciousness), her head throbbing and aching and the terror of where exactly she _was _finally settling in fully.

She was here to be tried. And neither exile nor death seemed a favorable option to her.

"Emily Daggett!"

Emily raised her head slowly from amongst the crowd of panicked civilians. She was still feeling a bit queasy and foggy due to being hit over the head, but she was conscious enough to realize that in this deranged courtroom setting, there were only two inevitable horrifying options. When she failed to move forward fast enough, her name was called again, and a mercenary poked her harshly in the back with his gun.

"You _heard him_, girl."

She walked forward with caution, as though that would save her from anything. Upon reaching the judge, or whatever it was he was exactly attempting to be, she looked up at him wordlessly. She made a weak attempt to not succumb to his apathetic gaze and obviously cruel mannerisms, but despite her best efforts, she could not stop her knees from shaking.

"Emily Daggett, you are being tried for your crimes against the People of Gotham," said the man calmly. His hair and suit were disheveled and the bags underneath his eyes were quite prominent, which left Emily wondering when was the last time he'd showered or slept.

"What crimes?" she asked softly, praying that the tremor in her knees would not travel to her throat and cause her voice to shake.

"Through association of your father, John Daggett, who would also be here to stand trial for his crimes had there not been a rather… _ahem_," he cleared his throat, "…_unfortunate _incident."

Tears raged in Emily's eyes. She wasn't sure what source of emotion they came from - anger, sorrow, terror - but she still fought hard to hold them back.

"I… haven't done anything. I can-"

"The matter is not up for discussion, as this is merely a sentencing hearing." The corners of his lips raised into a tiny smirk, causing Emily to shiver. "Your guilt has already been determined. So what'll it be? Exile?" He gazed out amongst the crowd as though gauging their reaction. "Or death?"

A million thoughts raced in Emily's head.

_I'm going to die they're going to kill me like my father exile ends in death too it has too I don't want to die please somebody help me anyone please there has to be some way out of this-_

She looked up to meet the judge's gaze, and he looked back at her with a certain amount of impatience, as though to say, _Well, hurry up already. We have people waiting._

She examined his suit for a moment, as she could not understand why someone in such a high seat of "power" would allow themselves to be dressed so ruggedly. She was intrigued by his shoulder mostly, as it seemed to have bits of straw sticking out of one of the more prominent tears… What sort of suit was made of straw…?

She gasped under her breath, a sudden realization coming to her.

"Scarecrow," she murmured. "You're - you're Scarecrow! Or - or… Crane, isn't it?"

He smiled. "In the flesh."

"You need guinea pigs," she continued in a hurry, "you - you need people to test your toxin. You need-"

"Exile or death, Miss Daggett?" he interrupted calmly.

"I volunteer!" she blurted out. Crane simply raised an eyebrow, which eased Emily, as he no longer looked impatient, but rather intrigued.

"I'm sorry?"

She exhaled sharply. "I'll... be your guinea pig."

The courtroom had grown eerily silent. Emily felt for a moment that she was making a terrible mistake, but anything had to outweigh death, didn't it?

Crane said nothing for a minute, as though considering her proposition, before looking at Emily with another one of his unsettling smirks and answering coolly, "I accept."


End file.
